This is what I’ve been feeling like lately. Overwhelmed and sad and wanting to hold on to everything wonderful from last year and the year before and all the years before that. Yeah, I’m having a mid-life crisis at sixteen. You don’t need to tell me I’m pathetic.
But at least I can comfort myself by resorting to the ever-refreshing human behaviour of comparing myself to everyone else. (UNBELIEVABLY therapeutic!) Yeah so I’m concerned about my marks…but I’m nowhere near as bad as that girl who stopped me in the hall to hyperventilate about losing two points on a multiple choice quiz. (I walked away in a huff while she gasped for air.) And maybe I’m slightly panicked about where to apply for university and where I’m going to get the money to pay for it all…but at least I won’t consider myself a total failure if I don’t get accepted into Harvard Med. And I guess you could say that I spend more than a healthy amount of time worrying about losing touch with friends I had last year that I simply no longer see…but at least I care. Most of all though, I’m scared of time. Time moving too quickly. Time forcing me forward before I’m ready to move. Time eating up all the simplicity of youth.
As you can see, a stupid amount of melodrama goes on in my mind. Just in case you need more evidence, I found this scribbled in my notebook: “Someday I think I’ll go to Dollarama, buy a cheap clock, and on the way home, smash it heavily with a big, big rock.” Bit much, says you? Lily Allen gets it though, she absolutely does.